Merthyr was satisfied to see her sit down to the table,
and he at once went out to issue directions for the
first step in the new and momentous expedition.

Emilia put the bread to her mouth, and crumbled it
on a dry lip: but it was evident to Georgiana,
hostile witness as she was, that Emilia’s mind
was gradually warming to what Merthyr had said, and
that a picture was passing before the girl. She
perceived also a thing that no misery of her own had
yet drawn from Emilia. It was a tear that fell
heavily on the back of her hand. Soon the tears
came in quick succession, while the girl tried to
eat, and bit at salted morsels. It was a strange
sight for Georgiana, this statuesque weeping, that
got human bit by bit, till the bosom heaved long sobs:
and yet no turn of the head for sympathy; nothing
but passionless shedding of big tear-drops!

She went to the girl, and put her hand upon her; kissed
her, and then said: “We have no time to
lose. My brother never delays when he has come
to a resolve.”

Emilia tried to articulate: “I am ready.”

“But you have not eaten!”

Emilia made a mechanical effort to eat.

“Remember,” said Georgiana, “we
have a long distance to go. You will want your
strength. You would not be a burden to him?
Eat, while I get your things ready.” And
Georgiana left her, secretly elated to feel that in
this expedition it was she, and she alone, who was
Merthyr’s mate. What storm it was, and
what conflict, agitated the girl and stupefied her,
she cared not to guess, now that she had the suitable
designation, ‘savage,’ confirmed in all
her acts, to apply to her.

When Tracy Runningbrook came down at his ordinary
hour of noon to breakfast, he found a twisted note
from Georgiana, telling him that important matters
had summoned Merthyr to London, and that they were
all to be seen at Lady Gosstre’s town-house.

“I believe, by Jove! Powys manoeuvres to
get her away from me,” he shouted, and sat down
to his breakfast and his book with a comforted mind.
It was not Georgiana to whom he alluded; but the appearance
of Captain Gambier, and the pronounced discomposure
visible in the handsome face of the captain on his
hearing of the departure, led Tracy to think that
Georgiana’s was properly deplored by another,
though that other was said to be engaged. ‘On
revient toujours,’ he hummed.

CHAPTER XLVIII

Three days passed as a running dream to Emilia.
During that period she might have been hurried off
to Italy without uttering a remonstrance. Merthyr’s
spirited talk of the country she called her own; of
its heroic youth banded to rise, and sworn to liberate
it or die; of good historic names borne by men, his
comrades, in old campaigning adventures; and stories
and incidents of those past days—­all given
with his changed face, and changed ringing voice,
almost moved her to plunge forgetfully into this new
tumultuous stream while the picture of the beloved
land, lying shrouded beneath the perilous star it
was about to follow grew in her mind.